


let me down easy

by angiediangelo



Series: give me a reason to be heartsick [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Angst with a Happy Ending, Atsumu Week, Atsumu is slightly confused but he's got the right intentions, Character Study, Enemies to Lovers, Friends With Benefits, Getting Together, M/M, Minor Angst, Miya Atsumu is Bad at Feelings, Miya Atsumu is a Little Shit, Mutual Pining, Pining, Pining Miya Atsumu, Post-Time Skip, SakuAtsu Week, Sakusa is best boi, Slight kagehina, Volleyball Dorks in Love, you really have to squint to see it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-17
Updated: 2021-03-17
Packaged: 2021-03-26 00:27:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30097473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angiediangelo/pseuds/angiediangelo
Summary: Atsumu thinks that loving Sakusa would be much easier, if the other just let him.orAtsumu thinks that Sakusa’s emotionally constipated, but he’s really the emotionally constipated one all along.--"I think you've ruined me, because I no longer know how to desire anyone else. And I don't think I care to remember."
Relationships: Hinata Shouyou/Kageyama Tobio, MSBY Black Jackals & Sakusa Kiyoomi, Miya Atsumu & MSBY Black Jackals, Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi
Series: give me a reason to be heartsick [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2214636
Comments: 7
Kudos: 81





	let me down easy

Sakusa asks Atsumu to break up - or stop whatever it is they’re doing - on an unremarkable Thursday afternoon. Spring has perfused through the air, and Sakura blossoms fall around them as they walk home from practice.

“Atsumu, maybe you should stop coming over.”

Atsumu looks up, surprised. “What? But...why? Ya don’t want to be friends anymore?”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Then, ya don’t want to hookup anymore?”

“That’s not it, either,” exasperation greets the chilly air surrounding them. “But do _you_?” Sakusa juts out three succinct words.

Atsumu opens his mouth, not fully comprehending the question. Closes it. Repeats the action a few more times, until the spiker looks near to throttling him.

“Yes, Omi-kun, ‘course I do.” Atsumu rushes.

A small silence follows, and Sakusa tilts his head curiously.

“Okay. Then we’ll continue.”

They resume their walk back to Sakusa’s apartment, as the remnants of their discussion scatter amongst drifting petals. The setting sun casts a warm glow against the spiker’s towering build, and the setter trails after his shadow in confusion.

\--

(Atsumu had always been prideful and attention-seeking. So when Sakusa first joined the Black Jackals, greeting him with a cold, “Don’t touch me,” Atsumu immediately disliked him. It had taken months for the setter to understand that Sakusa wasn’t rude - or maybe he was...after all, their second conversation consisted of Sakusa relentlessly mocking Atsumu’s failed serves - rather, the spiker had an aversion to touch.

What first began as a clashing of skill, serve combatting serve, slowly melted into a clashing of tongues in the dark after-hours of gruelling practices. For all his icy exterior, Sakusa had slowly warmed up to Atsumu’s abrasive personality.

When they had first begun to fool around - a hesitant “are ya sure” met with “yes, Miya, get on with it” - it had just been a way to greet tense frustration with impassioned verbal and physical spars. Yet, somehow along the way, the lines had blurred.)

\--

On a quiet Monday morning, Atsumu wakes up to the sound of soft running water. A warm summer breeze wafts through the windows, and Atsumu bathes in it with tranquil serenity. He stretches leisurely, as Sakusa takes his time in the shower. He waits for the spiker to finish, then begins his day.

(Atsumu had never been one for routines, but somehow, after spending prolonged months with Sakusa, a schedule flowed habitually through him.)

As Atsumu exits the bathroom, he is greeted with a cursory, “the team would freak, if they knew we were fooling around.”

“Who cares what the team thinks?”

“The team cares for you, Atsumu.”

“The team also cares for you, Omi-kun,” he scoffs.

“That’s not what I meant. I think they’d worry.”

“Why?” Atsumu whines with childish dismay. “I’m not that obnoxious. I can treat ya plenty well.”

“That’s not it either,” Sakusa rolls his eyes. “Although you are definitely that obnoxious.”

Atsumu waits for Sakusa to explain, but he falls silent.

“Omi--”

“I won’t go to team dinners just because you ask me too," Sakusa intercepts abruptly. “I won’t console you when you whine about bad serves. I won’t take you out to eat at food stalls when you’re hungry. And I won’t hug you when you throw temper tantrums,” he notes critically.

Atsumu blinks slowly. He is momentarily distracted by soft, jet-black curls, and he shakes his head slightly. He can’t decipher Sakusa’s words, can’t comprehend what the spiker is trying to say. It must be the morning haze.

“Ya don’t have to come to team dinners, Omi-kun. I’m always going to bother ya about it, but I know that ya don’t enjoy crowds. I don’t need food stalls; all I need is ‘Samu’s Onigiri. I don’t need yer consolation ya big jerk. And I don’t fucking throw temper tantrums.” Atsumu bites back scathingly.

Sakusa is quiet once again.

“Okay,” comes a murmured reply, hands softly reaching out to hold calloused setter fingers.

Effervescent pinks splatter across the sky, as golden light peaks through the window. Atsumu admires how the gentle outpour of morning casts a tender glow against Sakusa’s cheeks - revels in the way it softens the spiker’s features. He frowns a little, at the creased eyebrows that have erased the indents of two small black moles, and he glances somewhat worriedly at the tightening grip of Sakusa’s hold.

“Are yer injuries acting up again?” Atsumu unlaces his fingers to check Sakusa’s firm hands.

Sakusa stares down at the previously interlocked junctions. He doesn’t reply.

\--

(Once, during practice, Sakusa had overexerted his hyper-flexible wrists and injured his hands. Atsumu had observed the spiker gritting his teeth, glaring at his palms in contempt. As if he wasn’t responsible for the injury, for pushing himself too far. Atsumu had scoffed, taunting Sakusa with, “another point for me Omi-Omi. Honestly, how do ya expect to win if ya can’t even take care of yerself.”

Sakusa, who was desperately arguing with Meian that he could continue practice, stormed to the bench without another thought. His contempt for his injury had been replaced by an intense seething towards the setter. Meian glanced towards Atsumu with a grateful smile, followed by a quietly-mouthed “thank you.” The blonde grinned subtly, while his spiker scowled reproachfully. It was just like Sakusa to be too prideful to stop, even as his body splintered beneath him.

That was the first time they spent the night together, without the fervent fragments of physical passions ensuing. Instead, Atsumu had sat Sakusa down on the couch and wrapped his hands meticulously.

“Honestly, Omi.” Atsumu chided softly.

Sakusa ignored the small admonition. His gaze was still laced with fire, but underneath it held some subdued gratitude. He let out a quiet, “thank you,” and Atsumu had held him until he fell asleep. Against the golden hues of the fading sunlight, the spiker seemed smaller, vulnerable.

That was the first time the churlish blonde ever thought, _oh. I wouldn’t mind if this was the rest of my life._ )

\--

“Atsumu, why are you still here?” Sakusa asks, on a tumultuous Wednesday afternoon. He watches the leaves cascade down, as the autumn breeze wrestles them away from sturdy branches.

“What?” Atsumu gapes.

“Why are you still here?” Sakusa repeats, a soft pink dusting his cheeks.

“If ya want me to leave, then I’ll leave Omi, jeez. It’s okay if today isn’t a good day.” Atsumu sniffs with mild offense.

“That’s not what I meant.”

“What did ya mean then?” Atsumu gazes into inky black orbs.

He doesn’t notice the silence that ensues, too enraptured by two swirling vortexes, the mysteries of a secret universe wound tight beneath them. Something flashes in the dark abyss, and Atsumu startles. As quick as it comes, the light settles until it is swallowed by the merciless depths of Sakusa’s eyes.

“Do you still want to be friends with benefits?”

“Of course.”

“Hinata said that him and Kageyama tried to be friends with benefits. And that someone will always get hurt, in situations like these.” Sakusa quotes apathetically.

“Stop worrying yer ass off. I’m not as fragile as ya make me to be.” Atsumu snorts. “Honestly Omi-kun. I’m a big boy. I won’t get hurt here.” He grins emphatically.

Sakusa murmurs something too deep and low for Atsumu to catch. He blinks his eyes expectantly, waiting for the latter to repeat his words.

“Consider it.” Sakusa declares.

“Consider what?” Atsumu’s eyes widen. “Omi-omi, are ya saying ya want me to get hurt?” He clutches his hands to his chest dramatically. “Honestly Omi, you’re such a sadist.”

Sakusa laughs mirthlessly.

“You’re lucky I’m a masochist.” continues a cheeky reply.

Sakusa contemplates.

“You know, Atsumu, I think you have it wrong.”

“Omi-kun don’t start with me--”

“I think you’re the sadist and I’m the masochist,” the words fragment like glass shards.

For once, Atsumu is the one to fall silent. He has never been the brightest, so he scrutinizes Sakusa’s words. _Honestly_ _Omi, you can’t wax poetic nothings and expect me to follow along,_ the blonde gripes internally.

“50-50.” He responds with laconic poise. “You can be the masochist half the time, and I’ll be the other half.”

A glimpse of emotion finally flits across Sakusa’s face. He smiles bitterly. “70-30.”

Atsumu laughs innocently.

“You drive a hard bargain Omi-kun. Okay deal. But I’m 70 and you’re 30,” he sings playfully, dashing out of the room before Sakusa can lob something at his head.

\--

(Atsumu and Sakusa always argued - there was no end to their caustic banter. But there was only one time when they had really fought. Leading up to a game against the EJP Raijins, Sakusa had been distant and Atsumu had been angry. He had been frustrated by the sudden coldness that returned alongside Sakusa’s lack of reciprocity. And beneath it all, he was terrified that Sakusa had grown bored - that he no longer wanted to continue whatever was between them.

When the Jackals lost with two straight sets, Atsumu had stormed into the locker room furiously. He wiped the team bench with fervent anger, because even at his lowest, he was somehow thinking of Sakusa. When the spiker emerged fresh from the shower, Atsumu grabbed him and slammed him against the locker. Sakusa sighed quietly and Atsumu’s blood boiled.

“Omi-kun, you’re a menace.” He grit out.

“Atsumu, you’re upset.”

“Of course I’m fucking upset. We lost. You’ve been gone. And we lost. Why have ya been so distant?” Atsumu demanded.

“Tsumu, let’s talk about this later. You’re angry.” Sakusa replied softly.

“Ya know, maybe this is why you’ve never had anyone.” Atsumu spat viciously. “You’re cold and unemotional, and you drive me crazy.”

Sakusa’s body had turned rigid, but Atsumu’s emotions fueled him with relentless rage, as he delivered the ruthless final blow.

“You’re so hard to deal with. Ya constantly question me. And then ya close yourself off and disappear without a notice. Honestly, what else should I have expected? You’re every bit as bad as people make you out to be.”

In the quiet that followed, Atsumu met Sakusa’s cold gaze with horror.

“Kiyoomi--”

“Are you happy, now that you’ve let all your anger out, Miya?”

Atsumu recoiled in hurt. He hadn’t been referred to as Miya since they began their trysts. Sakusa’s pitch black eyes stared into his, relentlessly frigid. Shame pooled in Atsumu’s gut, as he realized what he had just done. He had taken it too far.

“Omi, I’m sorry. I really didn’t mean it.”

Sakusa was silent, but the anger had dimmed in his eyes. Atsumu stared cautiously at the spiker, preparing himself for the biting retort that would follow.

“It was rude, Atsumu. You have no manners. You’re erratic. You have no filter, and you hurt people as a result. You’re temperamental, whiny, and somehow always disagreeable.”

Atsumu looked to the floor, accepting each insult lodged his way.

“But I knew all of that, going into this,” Sakusa continued unflinchingly. “And you care. More than anyone else I know. You give the best tosses; you stay after hours to teach Hinata your serves; you reprimand Bokuto, so he doesn’t fall apart; you leave team dinners, because I’m uncomfortable. And for some reason, I enjoy your abrasiveness. Even your temper, your complaints, and your obnoxious attitude. I somehow like it all.” Sakusa looked repulsed, as the words tumbled.

Atsumu stared at him, mouth gaping.

“If you sometimes blow up and take it out on me with verbal accusations, I won’t accept it. I guess you can add that to the list of things I can’t do for you.”

“Omi, I’m really sorry--”

“I’ll fight back Atsumu. And I won’t let it go just because you’re angry. I’m stubborn and I hold grudges.”

“And I’m fine with that Omi-Omi, I swear--”

“There’s a lot that I can’t do for you. What you said wasn’t wrong. Consider it,” he finished softly, enveloping Atsumu in a warm embrace. “I’m sorry, Atsumu, for being distant. But just...consider it.”

A hard ache lodged in the setter’s throat. It was the first and only fight he really had with Sakusa. Yet, as he gripped the edge of the spiker’s jacket, Atsumu felt relieved. Sakusa wasn’t leaving. He hadn’t decided that Atsumu was too much to handle. He fought back vehemently, and he returned every bullet Atsumu shot. And somehow, after their launched attacks, Sakusa had left him feeling whole.

That was the first time Atsumu had thought, _I don’t think I can ever want anyone else_. His heart had resounded with quiet desperation.

 _I think you’ve ruined me, because I no longer know how to desire anyone else. And I don’t think I care to remember._ )

\--

“I think we should end things,” Sakusa states placidly on a rainy Friday night. His eyes are trained on the window as he speaks, talking as one would discuss the weather. Against the onslaught of a cold, Osaka winter, the rain transitions to an icy slush as it hurtles across the air, destroying itself upon frigid ground.

Atsumu gazes at him wordlessly. Something bubbles up inside him.

“I ran into your brother at Onigiri Miya and he told me how you fell in love with your high school captain, Kita,” Sakusa continues. “He said that Kita was your first love, and your first heartbreak.”

A slow aching diffuses through Atsumu’s bones, and he feels the sudden need to hurl.

“He told me you said that Kita was perfect. But he could never love you in the way you needed.”

“Yes,” a quiet admission is offered.

“I think we should end things. Friends with benefits never works ‘Tsumu. Someone always gets hurt.”

Only the pitter patter of raindrops echoes through the room, following by the slugged percolation of viscid slush. Atsumu chuckles at the irony. Maybe the universe is crying for him. Maybe it is crying with him.

“I hear you Omi,” a tight grin forces itself onto his face.

Sakusa wrenches his gaze away from the window, and tentatively lays it against Atsumu.

“I’m sorry for not realizin’ earlier Omi,” the setter continues, apologetic. “I never meant to pressure ya into staying.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“It’s okay, Omi-kun, honestly,” Atsumu waves his arms, as if brushing off residual rejection. “I told ya, I bounce back quick.”

“Atsumu--”

“I am sorry though, Omi, really. I thought maybe ya were just a little emotionally constipated, and that’s why ya kept bringing up ending things. But I really just ended up ignoring--”

“Atsumu,” Sakusa interrupts softly, “I just meant that you should be happy. And I don’t think I can make you happy.”

“Ya don’t want this anymore.” Atsumu reiterates.

“That’s not it, either.” Sakusa grits in frustration.

“Honestly, Omi, now you’re just being rude,” Atsumu responds tautly.

“Atsumu - I want this. But I’m cold. I’m emotionally distant. I’m manageable on a good day, and atrocious on my bad days. I love you but I can’t love you in the way you need. I’m not...” Sakusa struggles, “I’m not good enough.”

Atsumu gapes at Sakusa, wondering if he heard right.

“Omi-kun, you...I...what?”

Sakusa doesn’t repeat himself, merely stares back into confused, golden-brown eyes. Atsumu snickers a little, because really, he must be imagining things at this point.

“Now who’s being rude.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“Really, Miya?”

“But--”

“I think we should end things,” Sakusa repeats softly. “Before one of us gets hurt.”

“That’s ridiculous.” Atsumu laughs erratically. “Omi-kun, let me process everything first, will ya?”

Sakusa laces his fingers together, and motions to the sit on the couch.

“So, you don’t hate me?” Atsumu questions in a small voice. “You’re not bored of this?”

“I definitely still hate you,” Sakusa returns with a roll of his eyes. “But maybe I love you a little more than I hate you.” His fingers tap against his legs in a one, two, three motion. Atsumu is mesmerized.

He stares into the cosmic abyss of Sakusa’s black orbs. How could he be so blind? A tender warmth resounds beneath two swirling vortexes. It holds the secrets of the universe. And Atsumu hates himself. Because he’s so stupid. Because he’s missed every single sign. But Sakusa is sitting in front of him and his eyes shine with unspoken affection. So Atsumu laughs, because he can hate himself later. For now, he presses a chaste kiss to soft lips. For now, he smiles and leans forward, breathing a small "I love you," against flushed cheeks and stolen breaths. 

“Don’t get me wrong, Kiyoomi,” Atsumu smiles. “I also love ya only a smidge - a teensy teensy tiny more - than I hate you okay?”

Sakusa huffs in irritation, but his gaze is soft.

“Okay.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys,
> 
> This is my first story, and I knew it just had to be SakuAtsu. I really hope you guys enjoyed <3.  
>   
> I tried to write Sakusa as an enigma, since it's told through Atsumu's POV; but I think he just came out a lot more soft than he's usually portrayed. If I write a part 2, from Sakusa's POV, I promise to add more scathing wit sksks.  
>   
> 


End file.
